


The Little Dragon in the Graveyard Flowers

by DancingBlights



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Ciri is thirteen, Everyone else has shops, Jaskier is a musician who performs and occasionally teaches kids, M/M, Modern AU, and scheming with Yennifer, flower shop au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingBlights/pseuds/DancingBlights
Summary: Geralt is perfectly content running his shop and raising Ciri. His resolve gets thrown ass over tea kettle when he meets Jaskier at the local farmer's market and isn't helped by his goddaughter teaming up with Yennefer against him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 195





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Years without posting on archive and within one evening I'm posting two stories, wild.
> 
> Beta'd by my dear friend Beau.

Geralt and Ciri are the first vendor at the farmer’s market lot as they always are. The regular sound tech flits around the gazebo at the end of the dirt lot setting up mics and speakers, the only person to consistently beat the pair to the familiar place.

The truck grumbles as Geralt eases it into its spot, Ciri tumbling out the door before he even has it in park. She has the back open just as the truck rumbles into silence and is already hauling out the canopy out by the time Geralt is out of the vehicle. The set up is smooth from practice and Ciri is filling display buckets with water when a considerably smaller hatchback pulls into the lot and parks in the spot next to them. 

“Good morning, Geralt, Ciri.” Yennefer greets them as she steps out of her car, long sundress swirling around her legs as she does. Ciri chirps a hello with a wave and Geralt nods once, barely looking up from his work arranging the stall. “Talkative as ever, I see.” She gets a grunt in reply to which she chuckles and goes about her own process of setting up. “Cirilla, did I hear that your guitar teacher was playing today?” Ciri lights up a bit and nods.

“I believe so! He mentioned it in my last lesson. I’m hoping he’ll have a chance to come meet you and Triss.” Her guitar lessons were the most recent in a string of Ciri wanting to learn as many instruments as she can. Apparently, the man who had been teaching her violin to begin with is skilled with several instruments and their lessons quickly became less specific and more varied.

“I look forward to it. Geralt, have you met this teacher yet?” Geralt nods, glancing over at where Yennefer has most of her products out, handmade soaps and various stones, semi-precious and otherwise, laid in boxes and baskets.

“Briefly when Ciri started lessons. She walks.” Yennefer hums and goes about finishing her setting up.

The farmer’s market opens at 8:30 and by 9 there’s a decent crowd. The gazebo plays stage for a man with brown hair and a wide smile. He barely needs the microphone in front of him to capture the attention of the crowd with a mix of classic songs and newer ones, ensuring the delight of adults and children alike.

An hour or so in, the man takes a quick break and Ciri goes over to talk to him, Geralt watching carefully between sales to ensure that she doesn’t leave his sight for too long. After a moment of conversation Ciri joins the man on the stage and they sing a duet, light hearted and fun, telling a somewhat nonsensical story that people seem to enjoy.

It’s not long before Ciri returns, diving straight back into helping with the stall as the crowd grows larger. Since he had taken custody of her, Ciri has learned about the flowers he sells with a voracity that surprised him. He would not have pined the girl as one for flowers. It was her idea to start drying certain flowers and selling them either in pouches for making a room smell nicer or for teas. Geralt had agreed it was a good idea and made it her task for the farmer’s market, deciding that if it was successful there that they could consider it for the store. 

The crowd makes it a good day, a recent run of dark rainy days making people more inclined to want to brighten their houses with flowers and some of the candles Yennefer sells next to them. As usual, Geralt managed to predict the foot traffic near perfectly and they have little left over when the market closes. Part way through breaking down the stall, Ciri brightens and waves to someone behind Geralt.

“Jaskier!” Geralt turns and sees the man from the gazebo, Jaskier, Ciri’s music teacher. His guitar is slung over his back, a floral patterned shirt that is just this side of too much clings to him in a way that accentuates his waist. Not that Geralt is looking, Yennefer’s delicate snort as she watches notwithstanding. 

“Ah! Cirilla! How was my performance? You’re the only one I trust to be honest but fair!” Jaskier’s bluster reaches them before he actually comes to a stop, gesturing in a dramatic fashion that pulls a laugh from Ciri.

“It was great, Jaskier! Seems like you finally finished the song you were working on.” She earns a laugh and a smile.

“I did! The crowd loved it!” Geralt comes out of the truck and Jaskier’s eyes meet his almost instantly. “Ah, you’re Cirilla’s godfather, yes? Julian Pankratz, a pleasure.” Geralt shakes the offered hand with a nod.

“Geralt Rivia.” His brusque answer only seems to throw the musician for a moment before he continues to talk. 

“Of course, I believe we have met once before but it was a while ago. I should take this opportunity to tell you that your goddaughter is a wonderful student and incredibly talented at everything I throw at her.” The praise isn’t a surprise, Ciri is an excellent student, but Ciri straightens with pride and Geralt shoots her a small smile.

“I’m glad to hear it. She inherited her mother’s ability for single minded focus.” Ciri’s smile is wide if a bit sad and Jaskier nods sagely.

“Our dear Cirilla is quite determined when she sets her mind to things.” He eyes Geralt briefly. “Although if what she’s told me about you is true you are to credit for some of her incredible focus and drive.” Ciri’s grin has morphed once again, a grin slier than Geralt is comfortable with gracing her face.

“Hmm.” He’s saved from replying by Yennefer sweeping up to the truck.

“Geralt. I’m going to need more lavender on Wednesday, same time for pick up?” He nods, turning away from Jaskier to face Yennefer. “Excellent, my new hair treatment seems popular and I need to make more of it for next week.”

“Dried or fresh?” She fixes Geralt with a look that makes it clear that she thinks he’s an idiot before replying.

“Fresh, if you have it.” Someone clearing their throat draws both of their attention to Jaskier where he’s still standing.

“Did I hear you say lavender hair treatment? I don’t suppose you have any left that I could purchase?” Yennefer eyes him for a moment, assessing something that only she understands.

“I’m afraid I sold out of it this week. However, if you’ll be performing again next week I can keep a bottle aside for you.” Jaskier sketches the ghost of an honest to god bow, earning a bemused look from Yennefer.

“I would deeply appreciate it and I shall look forward to next week.” He glances at his watch and sighs. “And I am afraid that I must take my leave. It was a pleasure to meet you, madam, Geralt. Ciri, I shall see you on Thursday?” Ciri nods and Jaskier waves then departs toward his car.

Geralt watches him walk away, focus only broken when Yennefer delicately clears her throat. A deeply smug look has settled onto her face and Geralt frowns at her, glaring as he practically reads her mind.

“No.” She raises an eyebrow in return, smug smile still lodged in place.

“He seemed nice.” Geralt grunts and turns to Ciri, motioning her to get into the truck. “See you on Wednesday.” Yennefer calls as Geralt pulls out of the market lot. 

“Did you like Jaskier’s music?” Ciri’s innocent question leaves Geralt holding in a groan before replying.

“It was fine.” Out of the corner of his eye Geralt sees Ciri watching him, eyes narrowed slightly. 

“Why was Yen looking at you like the after Jaskier left?” It seems that his goddaughter isn’t going to go easy on him and not for the first time Geralt curses Ciri’s determination.

“She thinks she knows something and she’s wrong.” The answer clearly isn’t enough for Ciri but she lets it lie, settling back into her seat and humming one of the songs Jaskier had sung. Geralt grunts and and easy and familiar quiet settles over the truck.

-

Wednesday dawns and Yennefer arrives at Little Dragon and Graveyard Flowers at precisely eleven in the morning. She pushes through the door, the little bell and her presence alert Geralt to her arrival and he has her order on the counter before she even reaches him.

“I cut them ten minutes ago, they’re as fresh as they get.” He gets a smile and the requisite amount of money that she knows it costs without asking. Silence reigns as he cashes her out and as he turns to give her her change the look in her eyes makes him groan internally. “No, Yen.”

“Has he been in yet?” Geralt grunts in response and decided to feign ignorance about the whole situation. “Come on, I know you know who I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb, it isn’t a flattering color on you.” Yennefer crosses her arms, box of lavender still sitting on the counter.

“No, he hasn’t been in because there’s no reason for him to come in.” The full force of Yennefer Vengerberg’s judgemental stare is something Geralt has experience with and he stares back, arms crossed.

“Geralt, he was staring at your arms the whole time he was at your stall. He was excellent at being subtle about it, I will give him that but he definitely was.” Yennefer gets yet another grunt in reply and she sighs. Before she can launch into another facet of her unwanted opinion she’s interrupted by the bell over the door.

“Ah, I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” The smug look Yennefer shoots Geralt as she scoops up her purchase nearly kills him and she’s moving before he’s even reacted.

“Of course not. I was just leaving. I’ll see the both of you on Saturday!” And with that Yennefer is out the door and it’s just Geralt and Jaskier. Jaskier hesitates, staring somewhat blankly at where Yennefer has just swept past him before shaking himself.

“Is she always like that?” Jaskier gestures after Yennefer, an eyebrow raised.

“Unfortunately.” Geralt uncrosses his arms, watching Jaskier’s approach. 

“Well, that must get exhausting. Anyway, my dear friend Triss is arranging a birthday party and has asked me to get flowers. Naturally, my first thought was to come here and very very politely request help because all I have is a color scheme and how many arrangements she needs.” Jaskier looks rather sheepish and Yennefer’s pestering floats around Geralt’s mind as he tells mental Yennefer that no, he isn’t cute.

“What’s the color scheme?” Plain relief crosses Jaskier’s face and he scrambles to pull his phone out and show Geralt a picture of pinks, yellows, and oranges. “Hmm.” Years of running the flower shop kick in and he’s already arranging in his head even as he grabs a sketchbook and does a couple of quick sketches along with a list of the flowers in each. “Price range?” Jaskier jumps a little at the question, refocusing from whatever he had been staring at.

“Triss just said that she’d pay whatever it costs.” Geralt nods and takes off around the store, grabbing individual flowers from their buckets. He returns to the counter and arranges them in the groups that he sketched out, yellow and orange ranunculus, pink roses, and baby’s breath in one, all roses in another, carnations, gerbera daisies, and more ranunculus in the last. 

“Preference?” Once again Jaskier seems to need to shake himself before replying.

“The first one, I think. Feels more Triss’ style.” The arrangement’s number is circled in the sketchbook and the flowers are collected carefully to the side as Geralt writes an order form. Jaskier answers all of his questions as best he can with the information given and they determine that Triss will pay for the order at the farmer’s market on Saturday.

“Alright, here’s your copy, I’ll give Triss hers when she pays.” The order book is closed before the pink slip is even in Jaskier’s hands. He tucks it into his wallet, intent on showing it to Triss as proof of the order.

“Well, then, thank you so much for your assistance.” A small potted plant to the left of the counter catches Jaskier’s attention and he scoops it up to coo at it like one would a pet. “Aren’t you just adorable?” He pinches a wide verdant green leaf ever so gently between his fingers and pulls his fingers down the leaf, careful not to harm the plant in any way.

“It’s a peace lily.” The gruff comment brings Jaskier back to the real world and he glances over to see Geralt watching him coo over a potted plant. Jaskier feels himself flush red and drops his gaze back to the plant.

“Is it? I’ve always loved plants. Can’t have them, mind you, I’m terrible at keeping them alive.” He goes to place the pot back on its shelf but is stopped by Geralt’s next comment.

“Hard to kill a peace lily.” If he didn’t know any better Jaskier would say that the other man sounded rushed, like he didn’t want Jaskier to leave without the little plant. When he looks up again Geralt’s gaze is impassive as ever, no indication of any opinion on the matter.

“Is that so? I guess I may just have to try again.” He sets the plant on the counter with a careful reverence, almost afraid that just putting it down too hard will kill it. “Any tips on care of this lovely little thing?” At first all he thinks he’s going to get is a grunt as Geralt rustles around behind the counter for something.

“Water thoroughly once a week, bright indirect sun. Split it up if it gets too big for it’s own good.” Another piece of paper lands on the counter that reveals itself to be care instructions. “Five dollars.” Jaskier blinks at Geralt, debates arguing that that doesn’t seem like enough, then fishes a five out of his wallet.

“Well, then.” Jaskier feels a tad like a broken record. “Pleasure doing business with you. Hopefully I can maintain this sweet little thing. I guess I’ll see you on Saturday.” Geralt nods and Jaskier pushes out of the small shop with a little more gusto then is probably necessary. He takes a deep breath and looks at the little plant in his hands, Geralt had called it a lily which implies that it should flower at some point even though it was just leaves at the moment. It’ll go in the room he teaches lessons in, at the very least then Ciri might be able to keep it alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! This chapter is currently unedited, although I may come back and update it if I have someone edit it.
> 
> Edit: Thank you to the commenter who pointed out that half of the time I was calling Triss Tess. Not sure if that was autocorrect or a brain fart but it has now been fixed!

“Is that a peace lily?” Jaskier winces before turning to face Ciri who noticed the little plant on the piano as soon as she closed the door.

“So I’m told. I’m hoping that that’s a safe enough place for it.” The critical look in Ciri’s eyes unsettles him even as she places her guitar case on the ground and begins to tune it without prompting.

“Did you get it at the Graveyard?” She must sense that the question throws him because she laughs and clarifies. “Geralt’s shop.” Jaskier nods and spreads his hands in a gesture just this side of too dramatic.

“Ah! Yes, I did in fact. My friend Triss placed me in charge of flowers for a party she’s throwing and I went to the shop for help. The lily caught my attention.” He glances from the little plant on his piano to the tiny flower drawn on every Thursday of his dry-erase calendar, a reminder to water the thing.

“That explains it. Geralt asked me to watch it last night but wouldn’t explain what he meant.” Ciri strums a quick chord progression. “Have you named it?” The question earns her another questioning glance and she shrugs. “Naming plants is good for them. I’ve named most of the plants in the greenhouse.” Jaskier hums, tapping his cheek as he considers.

“Is that so? Well then, how about Gwydion?” Ciri considers the name for a moment, staring at the plant.

“A bit whimsical, but yes.” Jaskier bows, an exaggerated movement that earns a smile from his student.

“Its naming shall be blessed by Ciri Riannon. Well!” Jaskier claps and turns to the piano behind him. “Now that that is dealt with, warm ups.” The pair launch into long familiar scales and exercises before Jaskier leads Ciri into a song they’ve been working on for weeks.

The session passes as quickly as ever, Jaskier beaming proudly as Ciri barely stumbles over chord progressions that had given her significant issue when they had first started the song. Their voices blend seamlessly after their months of practice together, the comforting harmonies reverberating between them.

It’s easy then for Jaskier to sink into the calming familiarity of music, to let his fingers traverse the keys with no conscious input and to close his eyes and sink into it. It’s a comfort borne of years singing and playing various instruments both for fun and for money. Music has been the one constant in his life that has shifted and morphed alongside him when other things snapped and broke away.

In their practices Ciri seems to experience music similarly and it’s one of the reasons she’s such a good student. She’s sung through all of the things that have gone wrong in her short life, a fact that she had bluntly explained to Jaskier after a month’s worth of lessons.

“There’s very little advice I can give you on this song, Ciri. The only thing left for it is practice at this point.” Ciri is clearly torn between pride and irritation, the warring expression drawing a quiet chuckle from Jaskier. “I think it’s time for you to run along home now, I don’t fancy your godfather coming after me because I kept you out too late.” The withering look Ciri shoots him is equally terrifying and hilarious.

“It’s five at night.” Jaskier raises his hands in surrender.

“Maybe but I’m not in the habit of crossing men whose arms are wider than my head.” He instantly knows that he’s overshared when Ciri’s irritated look melts into a shit eating grin and he mutters a curse under his breath. “Out, you young terror, out!” Jaskier waves his arms and shoos a laughing Ciri out of his room and out the door to her walk home.

Once she’s gone he drags a hand down his face and waves to the receptionist, handily ignoring the smothered laughter, and goes to clean up his room. Gwydion the peace lily sits serenely on the piano, somehow managing to be smug despite being a featureless plant.

“Not you too. I did not buy you because Ciri’s godfather is hot.” Jaskier points accusingly at the plant, one hand on his hip, then freezes. He sags in defeat, dropping his head and arm with a sigh. “I’m talking to a plant. Definitely time to go home.”

\---

“How are lessons going?” Triss asks over her coffee, blowing on it delicately to cool it off. Jaskier takes a sip of his coffee. He genuinely loves his and Triss’ Friday-coffee-to-get-Jaskier-out-of-the-house dates as Yennefer, an occasional participant, has named them. They are an excellent reminder to leave his house for reasons other than groceries and lessons and Triss is just about his only real friend at the moment.

“Well, the majority of my students are progressing well and Cirilla is improving so rapidly I can barely keep pace.” Jaskier knows he’s smiling a little too much but watching others succeed has always been one of his favorite things. “Oh!” He produces the little pink slip of paper Geralt had given him out of his pocket with a flourish. “Proof I have arranged flowers for your party, my dear lady.” Triss accepts the paper with a laugh and scans it quickly.

“Thank you, Jaskier. I know it’s not your favorite thing but-” She lets Jaskier interrupt her with a raised palm and a theatrical scoff.

“Nonsense! It is the very least I could do to help.” The exaggerated expression drops to a softer look as he continues. “Theatrics aside, I’m happy to help. It’s no problem. After all, all I did was walk in, provide colors, make one entire decision and buy myself a plant I did not go in looking for.” It seems like knowing looks are all he’s going to be getting for the next while as Triss unknowingly mimics Ciri’s look from the day before.

“Mm, he is persuasive, isn’t he?” Her tone is casual and she stirs her coffee as she says it but Jaskier still pins her with an incredulous raised brow.

“And what does that mean?” All he gets is a hum and a smile and he shifts in his chair to lean on the edge of the table, pointing an accusing finger at Triss. “No, don’t get coy with me. Everyone’s been coy with me this week.” Triss lifts her hands in surrender but doesn’t lose the smile.

“You have a type, Jaskier. Our dear friend the florist happens to fit your type just about perfectly.” Jaskier splutters at this, worsened by Triss laughing at him.

“I have no such thing! And even if I did! How would you know it?” It’s a bit of a battle to keep his voice down in his need to dissuade his friend before she can even start. The amused smile hasn’t budged much to Jaskier’s indignance.

“You don’t make your crushes subtle and you are a living breathing embodiment of ‘Someone New’. You fall in love way too easily.” Triss takes another sip of her coffee as Jaskier’s jaw works even as he can’t come up with a reply. “It’s not a bad thing to have a crush, Jaskier.” She watches as the whirlwind of movement slows to a halt and Jaskier takes a calming drink of his coffee.

“I’m sure it’s a silly physical attraction that will pass with time. Most of them are. And besides, have you seen him? You can hardly blame me.” This earns him a laugh and a nod which encourages him slightly. “Although, he was very abrupt when I went in to inquire about your flowers. I’m not sure I got more than ten words out of him the whole time I was there.” He watches Triss shake her head and pretends to scowl at her.

“Geralt isn’t a talker, doesn’t mean he isn’t interested. I’ve seen him kick people out of his store for calling a ranunculus a rose. The fact that you know nothing about flowers and didn’t at least get scolded is a good sign.” She outright laughs at Jaskier’s groan because she’s cruel and Jaskier tells her as much. “And you’re dramatic.” Triss tells him.

“Betrayed! By my own best friend!” The declaration is overly dramatic but secures the laughter he was trying for as Triss chuckles into her coffee.

“Anyway, do you have anything new and fun for the market?” The rest of the time is spent discussing meaningless things and gossip, Triss eventually calling it to an end for an appointment.

\---

Saturday dawns bright and mild, perfect weather for the market. Jaskier wakes up early and distressingly awake as always. There’s already a text from Triss waiting for him asking for confirmation on when Geralt had said her flowers would be ready that he replies to while waiting on his coffee.  
They trade teasing barbs back and forth until Triss has to leave to get to the market on time. Jaskier heaves a sigh and collects his guitar and sets off for his car. The lot that hosts the market is far closer to his house than Triss’ but it never hurts to arrive early.

His favorite radio station absolutely betrays him and plays nothing but love songs the entire drive. Jaskier scoffs at each one and shakes his head. Yennefer and Triss are just meddling and have no idea what they’re talking about. His little crush will be gone within the week and Geralt will be none the wiser.

Most of the market is set up but the time he gets there, although Triss has yet to arrive. Jaskier slings his guitar over his back, ensuring that it’s steady and won’t come to or cause any damage before heading for Yennefer’s booth. She spots him when he’s about ten feet out and has a glass bottle at the front of her table by the time he gets to her.

“Hair treatment. Instructions are on the bottom.” Jaskier grins and pulls out his wallet.

“Delightful! This humidity has been absolutely terrible for my poor hair! How much do I owe you?” Yennefer names a price and Jaskier pays it happily, people speak highly of Yennefer’s creations and he doesn’t doubt that it will work.

An excited call of his name draws his attention to the next stall over where Ciri is waving at him. Jaskier thanks Yennefer again and makes his way to Ciri.

“Jaskier! I played the song all the way through without mistakes last night! Twice!” Ciri’s excitement is infectious and Jaskier cheers and congratulates her accordingly.

“I look forward to hearing it! I’m very proud of you!” She smiles wide and happy, turning to Geralt when he appears from around the side of their truck.

“Geralt! Jaskier’s here!” Geralt looks between the pair of them and nods in greeting around the bucket of flowers in his arms. Jaskier waves, his attention quickly brought back to Ciri. “How’s Gwydion?” Jaskier chuckles.

“Alive last I saw him. I watered him on wednesday and intend to keep to a schedule so as to not drown the poor thing.” Ciri nods approvingly and opens her mouth to reply but is interrupted by the sound tech calling Jaskier over. “That’s my cue! I’m afraid that I must go perform, my lady, but I assure you that I shall return!” He ducks away with the sound of Ciri’s laughter trailing behind him as he steps up into the gazebo to set everything up.

The market goes well, as it always does. Triss has his CDs for sale and a Spotify code for those who don’t use CDs anymore. He plays ‘Someone New’ just to spite her a half an hour in and he can see her laughing at him from her stall.

His eyes drift over to where Ciri and Geralt are busy, the bright sun and cheerful atmosphere partnered with the very enthusiastic Ciri prompting people to buy flowers. Years of practice allow him to play without issue as he finds himself watching Geralt work. Geralt clearly knows what he’s doing, not that Jaskier doubted that. Despite what Triss had told him about Geralt’s customer service skills, most prospective customers seem to leave happy with beautiful bouquets cradled in their arms. Fewer leave with one of Ciri’s teas or potpourri satchets, but she had told him during a lesson that it was a new idea and neither she nor her godfather expected them to sell very well yet.

A couple of times during his performance he would glance over and catch Geralt just as the other man was looking away and did his absolute best not to read into it. Triss takes a break for a snack just as he does and comes over to chat.

“Lovely as always, Jaskier.” He bows dramatically, knowing that it will make her laugh. “I see you dressed up today.” Jaskier glances down at himself, quickly. He’d thrown on a loose short sleeve button up covered in yellow flowers whose sleeves he had long since cuffed and sewn into place, black jeans and sneakers, not what he would have personally called dressed up.

”I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, Triss. I always dress like this.” She rolls her eyes and Jaskier doesn’t puff up dramatically in offense, he doesn’t. He ducks back into the gazebo to keep playing to avoid further teasing and if he sings a couple of his sappier songs no one calls him out on it.

It’s another hour before the market winds down, the last customers scattering to their cars, bags filled. Jaskier is packing up what little he brought when the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him makes him turn.

It’s Geralt, towering over where Jaskier is crouched over his guitar case in tight black jeans and a black t-shirt that Jaskier swears is painted on. What really catches his attention, however, are the flowers in Geralt’s hand. Geralt holds them out.

“We had leftovers, Ciri insisted that I bring these to you for her.” Jaskier takes the flowers carefully, their stems are wrapped in tinfoil, and he can see damp paper towels under it, likely keeping them moist until they can be put in water. After a moment of confusion, Jaskier looks back up at Geralt with a wide grin.

“Well, my thanks to both you and Ciri! They’re gorgeous.” They were, while the bouquet was small, it was populated by yellows and oranges and whites, a few flowers he recognizes and others that he doesn’t.

Geralt hums and turns, walking back to where Ciri is packing without any other fanfare. Jaskier watches his back for a moment before looking down at the flowers cradled in his hand, mystified.

Distracted as he is, he misses Triss coming up next to him.

“Bought some flowers?” She asks, projected innocence dripping from her words. Jaskier shakes his head.

“Geralt just gave them to me. Said Ciri insisted.” Triss looks between him and where the floral booth is almost packed up, mouth open ever so slightly.

“Amazing. I don’t think that man has ever given anyone flowers.” Jaskier sighs and collects his things, careful not to crush the flowers in the process.

“Well, I suppose I’d better go home and put these in water, then. It would be awfully rude to allow them to wilt so soon.” He and Triss exchange farewells, Jaskier tactfully ignoring that Triss is laughing at him again as he walks to his car.

Once home, the flowers go into a clean mason jar in his kitchen window where they catch the light. He stares at them for a moment longer, hands on his hips.

“Fuck. Triss is right.” Jaskier sighs, ducking his head. “I fall in love far too easily.”


End file.
